


death, destruction, and discs

by maruyaaya



Series: The Traitor Trilogy [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Traitor TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), based off election war, big emotional manipulation, but isnt the exact exact same, dream is not a good guy in this fic!! he is a manipulator okay!!, i guess this is kind of part of a series with blood betrayal and bees, lol who do i make a traitor next, lololol, no beta we die like l’manberg, one months work of pure angst, traitor tommy LMAO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maruyaaya/pseuds/maruyaaya
Summary: "You're so fucking corny""Shut up, Tommy, I mean it. Wherever you go, I go. It's us against the world"-in which tommy tries to protect his brother
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, no romance lol :DD
Series: The Traitor Trilogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110362
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	death, destruction, and discs

**Author's Note:**

> i spent so long writing this you can see my writing style change throughout the whole thing LMAO  
> also i did kind of rush the stuff that is same as canon cause i mean, you've all seen the november 16th stream you know what happens so i tried to not spend too much time on that stuff

The air is cold. 

Cold as it brushes past Tommy’s cheek, the red bandana around his neck doing everything it can to keep him warm. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing softly as the wind bites at his face. He raises the bandana to cover his face. It’s far too cold for him to go running around in the middle of the night, but he can’t go back to Pogtopia. 

Wilbur is nuts. Absolutely insane. And Tommy won’t let Wilbur blow up L’Manberg. Not only that, but Wilbur had called it Manberg. He’d said that if he couldn’t have _Manberg_ , no one could. Wilbur had given up, but Tommy hadn’t. Not yet, at least. 

Tommy would get L’Manberg back and he would do it with or without Wilbur. He brushes dirt from his face, sitting down somewhere in the middle of the forest. He’s not entirely sure where he is, but he’s alone and that’s really all that he wants right now. He slightly regrets leaving tonight of all nights since it’s one of the few times when Tubbo is staying in Pogtopia. 

Tubbo seems more and more tired every day he comes back from L’Manberg. Schlatt seems to be running him ragged with errand after errand. Combined with the work that Wilbur has Tubbo doing, Tommy can’t help but feel pity for his best friend whose dark circles are only getting darker with each day. 

“Tommyinnit,” a voice laughs softly. It’s all too familiar, one that he could recognize through the ringing of a crowd. Tommy stands up from the rock, turning around only to find Dream himself standing before. He’s got that same green hoodie on and that dumb fucking mask that he always wears. The familiar sight would almost be comforting if Dream wasn’t practically their biggest enemy. 

“Dream, get the fuck away from me,” Tommy growls, searching around for any type of weapon. He left both his sword and armour at home. He was an idiot. God, he was such an idiot. A low laugh rings out from Dream’s mouth and the older boy sits down, patting the seat next to him for Tommy to join. 

Tommy has no armour nor a weapon and Dream is dripping in sparkling netherite. If he tries to run, he’ll be dead, so he sits down next to Dream, staring at the moon above him. 

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” Dream lowers his mask, green eyes glaring down at Tommy. It’s a strange sight to see Dream without his mask, but Tommy supposes that nothing will get stranger than speaking with his biggest enemy in the middle of nowhere during the night. 

“Yeah? Speak English, you dick,” Tommy spits between laughter. A faint smile crosses Dream’s face, but it’s gone faster than it appeared. Dream raises his mask once more and Tommy guesses that the reason Dream wears it is to mask small moments of emotion like that one. Dream is meant to be a god. He doesn’t show pity or happiness, but his face of soft smiles and light laughs will always betray that picture of strength so his mask is the only way to keep up a quite literal facade. 

“I want you to betray Pogtopia.” Tommy stops laughing. Dream is staring at him (or Tommy can only assume since he can’t see past that dumb mask) as he runs a finger along the edge of the dark sword hanging at his waist. 

“You get straight to the point, don’t you?” Tommy barely spits out, staring up at the moon once more. The moon is bright; a pure circle in the dark night sky. Tommy would never betray Pogtopia. 

Wilbur is his brother. Tubbo is his brother. Technoblade is his brother. They’re a family and they care about each other. Maybe, Wilbur said some rude things earlier. Maybe, he said some things he didn’t mean. That didn’t mean that Tommy should betray the man. 

Tommy had fought against Dream for so long. Dream had ripped his discs from him and forced him and Tubbo, two _children_ into a war for a country that should've been rightfully theirs. Dream was absolutely everything that Tommy hated in life. 

“What makes you think I would ever betray Wilbur?” Tommy asks, waiting to see if Dream actually has a reason or if he’s been preying on the first alone member of Pogtopia he can find. 

“I heard your fight. Wilbur said that you’d never be president. That you didn’t _deserve_ to be president. Tommy, I can make you the president! Tubbo can be your vice, how good does that sound Tommy?” Tommy can only imagine the smug look on Dream’s face as he rattles off the reasons for Tommy to join him. 

And Tommy hates to admit it, but part of him thinks that Dream is right. Part of him thinks that joining Dream is the only way to truly win. He didn’t win the first war. Tommy may have gotten independence, but Dream was the real winner. Perhaps that was what Tommy would gain from joining Dream. Perhaps Tommy would finally win a war. 

“Tubbo’s with Schlatt, why would I want him as my vice?” And Tommy can only think of Tubbo wrapped in blankets in Pogtopia, peacefully sleeping while Schlatt thinks he’s still in Manberg. 

“Oh Tommy, I’m not dumb enough to think Tubbo would ever betray you of all people.” Dream kicks a leg over the other, watching the same moon above that Tommy is staring at, “don’t worry, I won’t be telling Schlatt. That’d be no fun and I’m really just in this to have fun, y’know.” 

“I don’t want to be the president,” Tommy mutters, fingering the red bandana around his neck. It was a lie. God, he was lying. He wanted to be president. He wanted power. 

Wait, what was he talking about? He didn’t want power. He just wanted to be in L’Manberg with Wilbur and Tubbo. 

“You can say whatever you want now, Tommy, but my deal still stands.” and without another word, Dream is gone, leaving only the faint memory of Dream’s preposition. Tommy quickly stands up, searching around for Dream, but he’s nowhere to be found. In his place, is a small piece of paper neatly folded in half. 

_offer still stands. think about it. meet me at the embassy tomorrow after the festival_.  
_-d._

* * *

“Tommy, you are not in charge!” Wilbur shouts, throwing the black sword in his hand onto the table. The sharp edge scratches at the paper map laid out before them and Tommy takes a step back, eyes widening at Wilbur’s outburst. 

“Wil, I just had a suggestion,” Tommy yells back, not bothering to sit back down in his seat. Wilbur isn’t listening to him. He hasn’t listened to a single word of reason. 

“Your suggestions aren’t helpful. Go play outside or something like that. You can either be a child or grow the fuck up and listen to me.” Wilbur’s words are harsh, each one like a knife digging its way into Tommy’s chest. 

A beat passes. One where neither of the two speak a word. Tommy only looks at Wilbur, breath hitching in his throat as he catches a glimpse of the crazed fire in Wilbur’s eyes. 

“I’ll see you at the festival.” Tommy can’t find the energy to even argue with Wilbur any more. He knows that Wilbur isn’t going to listen, so what’s the point in trying to reason with him. 

“Wait, Tommy, I meant-”

“I know what you meant, Wilbur. I’ll see you at the festival.” Tommy can’t even be bothered to listen to Wilbur’s empty promises that he knows will never actually be true. Wilbur can promise to listen to Tommy all he wants, but for the past few days, nothing that Wilbur has promised has been anything but a lie. 

Wilbur is a liar. He lies about anything and everything if it will help him get what he wants. It makes Tommy sick. 

It’s times like these when Tommy wants nothing more than to run to Tubbo and hug him. Fuck it if Tubbo’s gonna call him clingy (even though Tommy is definitely not the clingy one, Tommy notes), he just wants to stare at the sunset with his best friend. 

But he can’t run to Tubbo. Because Tubbo is busy spying on Schlatt for Tommy. Tubbo is risking his life while Tommy is sitting in a cave, sulking because Wilbur didn’t pay extra special attention to him today. Tubbo is doing so much more and Tommy can’t even help him. 

He has to get out of Pogtopia. He needs fresh air. He wants to feel the soft rhythm of the wind brush against his cheeks. He hasn’t been outside the whole day today on account of Wilbur claiming it to be too dangerous. 

Fuck whatever Wilbur says. Tommy couldn’t care less what Wilbur thinks is important. 

Something crinkles inside of his jacket pocket and Tommy reaches inside to find it. He pulls out a small slip of paper, the dark handwriting recognizable from miles away. It’s the note from Dream, asking him to meet up after the festival. 

There is no way Tommy’s going to betray Pogtopia. He’s not a fucking traitor. He would never betray Tubbo, his best friend — his _brother._ That's the main reason keeping him here. Tubbo is the reason. And if they could run off, just the two of them alone with even the smallest chance of being safe, Tommy thinks that nine times out of ten he’d take that chance.

* * *

“Tommy, look, I didn’t mean it earlier. I was just trying to-“ Wilbur is standing at the edge of the roof, peeking over to the podium where Schlatt is standing. Tommy moves in next to him, eyes darting back and forth as he tries to spot Tubbo. 

“Do you see Tubbo?” Tommy cuts Wilbur off. He can’t be bothered to listen to Wilbur’s fake apologies full of nothing but empty promises. He has more important things on his hands (both mentally and literally considering the crossbow _Not Penis_ in his hands that belongs to Dream himself). 

Wilbur only nods, pointing to the small boy who’s crawling up the edge of the podium. Although the suit stands for everything that Tommy hates, he has to admit that Tubbo looks proud of himself. He looks happy to be wearing something custom made for himself that isn’t three sizes too big like everything else in Pogtopia. 

(Even the jacket that Tommy is currently wearing is a hand me down from Wilbur, the edge coated in dirt from scraping against the ground for too long.) 

“Welcome to the festival of Manberg!” Schlatt begins, droning on about something related to him making Manberg better than Wilbur did. Tommy isn’t entirely listening, but he can tell from the look on Wilbur’s face that not a single word will slip past him. 

Tommy is instead watching Tubbo, his best friend sitting at Schlatt’s side. He looks so proud of himself with his tie neatly pressed against his chest and flashcards with his speech scrawled on them in his hands. 

Schlatt disperses the crowd and they head off to party. Music rings throughout the air and they all dance together. They have _fun_. Tommy can see Wilbur longing to go down there. Wanting to dance with his friends and be happy again. 

“Look at them. Look how happy they are,” Wilbur whispers under his breath, watching all of his friends have fun without him. There’s a soft look in his eyes; one of longing to just be happy again. 

“You don't have to blow it up, Wilbur. We can reclaim it together!” Tommy whispers back, arm wrapping around Wilbur’s shoulders. Wilbur flinches at the touch but slowly settles into the comforting grip. 

“Hey, guys.” Tubbo walks up from behind them, green tie pressed neatly against his chest. Tommy breathes out a sigh of relief at seeing his best friend again and runs up to hug him. 

He can almost hear the ‘clingy’ retort on the top of Tubbo’s tongue, but Tubbo bites it back as he relaxes into Tommy’s hug. It’s been far too long for the two to be separated and Tommy hasn’t truly realized just how much he misses Tubbo. 

“Tubbo, should I blow it up?” Wilbur doesn’t even hesitate before springing the question on Tubbo, watching as the dark-haired boy stumbles backwards. 

“Um I don’t think you should, but I trust your better judgement, Wil,” Tubbo pauses, watching as Wilbur glances from the group of people dancing below and then back to Tommy and Tubbo. 

“You’re just a fucking ‘yes man’, aren’t you?” Wilbur spits, tearing his eyes from the two boys. Tommy takes a step in front of Tubbo, it’s pure instinct for him to want to protect his best friend. 

“He’s not just a ‘yes man’,” Tommy spits back, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes another look at Wilbur. Wilbur lets out a heavy sigh, staring up at the sky above. It’s just barely past noon and the sun is bright above them.

The heat is digging into Tommy’s back and Tommy doesn’t think that he’s ever hated the sun more than he does now. It’s meant to be fucking winter, but instead, the sun is sitting there, as if it _knows_ that it really shouldn’t be out at this time of year. 

“Listen, Tubbo. Your speech ends with ‘let the festival begin’, right? If you say that line, I’ll blow it up. If you don’t, I won’t. It’s up to you. Make your own decision for once in your fucking life.” Wilbur looks back down at Tubbo who is fiddling with his tie. The green fabric slips between his fingers as it slowly unties, the knot already loose from the endless fidgeting that Tubbo’s been doing. 

“Yes Mr Pr- I mean, yes Wilbur,” Tubbo trails off, hands shaking as he speaks. Tommy catches the slight hesitance as Tubbo almost calls Wilbur by the same name as fucking Schlatt. 

And that’s when Tommy realizes that Wilbur isn’t on his side. That Wilbur’s never fucking been on Tommy’s side. Because where Tubbo goes Tommy goes and if Wilbur reminds Tubbo of Schlatt, then there’s no positive way to spin that. 

Wilbur waves goodbye as Tubbo turns around to head back to the festival. Tommy watches his brother leave and he reaches out a hand to grab his arm. Tubbo nods toward him, a faint smile crossing his lips. 

“Be safe, Tubbo,” Tommy whispers, locking eyes with Tubbo. Tubbo smiles as Tommy lets go of his arm. 

“I will, Tommy.” and with that, Tubbo’s gone. Tommy watches him run back down to Schlatt. Watches Schlatt wrap an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders. Watches Tubbo flinch as Schlatt laughs. 

Wilbur shuts his eyes as if it will all go away once it’s no longer in his view. Tommy tilts his head, looking at the older man with raised eyebrows. He really just wants the old Wilbur back. The Wilbur who was his brother. 

“Tubbo’s starting his speech.” Tommy doesn’t even notice how much time has passed until Wilbur gestures towards the black podium. He’s been staring at Wilbur for minutes — maybe even _hours_ (Tommy knows he’s being dramatic. There’s no way he could stare at Wilbur’s dumb face for). 

Schlatt hands off the microphone to Tubbo and Tommy almost cheers at Tubbo beginning his speech. As much as Tommy hates this festival and everything it stands for, he remembers just how hard Tubbo worked on his speech and he can’t help but feel proud of him. 

Tubbo is shaking as his fingers wrap around the microphone. He begins his speech by comparing L’Manberg to a lettuce. 

Tommy laughs. 

He covers his mouth to stop his laughs from squeezing out and he realizes that it has been so long since he has laughed a real _genuine_ laugh like this one. Of all the things in the world to compare L’Manberg to, Tubbo had to choose lettuce. 

(Because lettuce is arguably the funniest vegetable.) 

“And so, with that in mind, I’d like to thank everyone for coming to the festival.” Tommy’s heart almost stops as Tubbo trails off. That’s the end of his speech. That has to be it. 

And he didn’t say the line. 

Wilbur isn’t going to blow it up. 

“We like to have fun here, right Tubbo?” Schlatt lets out a low laugh and Tubbo’s head whips toward him. Tommy clenches his hand at his side. This feels wrong. This feels so wrong. 

“Yeah, we have fun,” Tubbo pauses, looking over at Schlatt. 

“Is there anything left in the speech, Tubbo?” Schlatt asks, trailing off into more laughter. Tommy shoots a look at Wilbur who doesn’t look back, focused entirely on watching Tubbo. 

“Yeah uh, so on that note; let the festival begin!” Tubbo finishes and Tommy can feel his heart sink in his chest. Wilbur is already running off the stage, his mind set on nothing but pressing the button. The button to blow up everything that he’s worked so hard for. 

“Hey uhh Quackity, can you help me with this?” Tommy watches as Schlatt whispers to Quackity, the hushed tones picked up by the microphone at the front of the podium. Schlatt passes over a couple yellow blocks as they slowly build up around Tubbo. 

“Uh, Schlatt? What are you doing?” Tubbo’s cries are hushed as Schlatt and Quackity build up a small box around him. The yellow concrete practically glares at Tommy and something inside of him sinks. Yellow concrete and blackstone. The same colours as the walls that Tubbo had been forced to tear down when Schlatt first became president. 

“Where’s the fucking button?” Wilbur whispers as Tommy watches him scramble behind the podium. Tommy can’t take his eyes off of Tubbo, eyes wide as he frantically looks between Quackity and Schlatt. The crowd falls silent, not a single voice but Schlatt’s and the soft whispers of Tubbo asking what's going on. 

“Alright, Tubbo, I’ll cut to the fucking chase,” Schlatt yells, turning back to look at Tubbo. Quackity is standing next to him, eyebrows knitted together as if even he didn’t know what was going on. 

“What? I can’t… I can’t move, Schlatt.” Tubbo’s hands push up against the yellow concrete, banging against it. He backs up into his chair, eyes whipping wildly between everyone in the crowd. His eyes stop on Tommy when he spots him hiding above. Tommy can only shoot him a look; a soft smile to say that it’s going to be okay. 

“I know what you’ve been up to,” Schlatt almost whispers, walking up and down the stage like a predator. A predator stalking his prey. 

“What have I been up to?” Tubbo asks, a look of pure innocence on his face. Tommy watches Tubbo lie through his teeth about everything that he’s been doing for the past months. He watches as Tubbo tries to calm his body language — tries to make himself look innocent. Tommy almost wishes that he’d accepted Wilbur’s acting lessons when he was just a kid. 

“ _’What have I been up to’_ he says, _’what have I been up to’_ ,” Schlatt laughs, voice echoing off of his microphone as Tubbo shrinks back into his chair as he realizes his act of false bravado isn’t working.

“Schlatt, I can’t get out.” Tubbo almost looks like he’s given up. Like he knows that Schlatt already knows the truth and nothing he says will change that. 

“You’ve been conspiring with the idiots! With the tyrants that we kicked out of this great country!” Schlatt’s voice booms. He’s loud. He is so loud and for the first time ever, Tommy just wants silence. 

Tommy sucks in a breath. Tubbo looks so scared. Tubbo’s eyes are locked onto Tommy, unable to even look away. Tubbo shakes his head, breathing faster every second. It’s as if time has slowed, as if nothing matters but now. 

“It all adds up, buddy. The fucking tunnels, your absence during important events. I mean, you walked off in the middle of this one, don’t think I didn’t notice,” Schlatt spits, staring at Tubbo. He runs a hand along one of his horns, smiling — fucking _smiling_ , “Don’t try and tell me you’ve done nothing wrong because everyone knows it. I’ve seen it with my own two fucking eyes.” 

“Schlatt, maybe we shouldn’t do this now.” a nervous smile wipes Quackity’s face as he slowly steps in front of Tubbo. Tommy can spot sweat dripping down Quackity’s forehead and Tommy thinks that perhaps he’s not the only one afraid of what will happen. 

“Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?” Schlatt asks, not even acknowledging Quackity’s concerns. And there’s something about Quackity being completely ignored that makes Tommy think that perhaps not everything is okay in L’Manberg. 

“No…” Tubbo can barely squeeze out a one word answer for fear of bursting into tears right then and there. Maybe it’s something only Tommy can spot or maybe Tommy isn’t really that special, but Tommy really hopes that perhaps something is connecting him and Tubbo a little more than normal people. 

“Nothing good,” Schlatt finishes, turning to look at the audience. No one even dares to speak as if a single word will shatter any semblance of peace that could be. Schlatt nods to the crowd, almost as if expecting applause. 

Tommy watches as Wilbur climbs back up to the building next to him. Wilbur bites down on his lip, leaning over as he explains that he couldn’t find the button. Tommy bites back the retort sitting on the tip of his tongue. The retort that Wilbur can’t even do a single thing right. The retort that maybe he actually believes, if not just for a moment. 

“Hey, Technoblade, can you join me up on this stage for a minute?” And as Technoblade slowly begins to climb the steps of the podium, Tommy can feel a heavy sigh drop out of his mouth. God, this is so great. Techno is on their side! He’s on Tommy’s side. Everything is going to be _okay_.

A smile even crosses Wilbur’s a mouth; a rare genuine smile that Tommy hasn’t seen in a long time (maybe he’d feel happy about it if Wilbur wasn’t such an ass, Tommy notes, perhaps not as truthfully as he’d like). Tubbo is safe. Tubbo is going to be okay. 

“What’s going on here?” Technoblade asks, his hand immediately drifting to the weapons laying on his waist. Tommy almost laughs. Schlatt has no fucking idea what’s coming to him. What fucking Technoblade is going to do to him. 

“Tubbo, you are an enemy of the state and a perpetrator to these awful, _awful_ people that you've been helping,” Schlatt trails off as if waiting for someone else to finish his sentence. As if it’s so clear what the “right” thing to do is that he doesn’t even need to say it, “Technoblade, if you would be so kind as to take care of this traitor.”

A beat passes. Tommy can feel his heart pound in his throat. Why is he so nervous? He shouldn’t be so nervous. Techno isn’t going to hurt Tubbo. He isn’t going to hurt him. Techno looks nervously around the stage, eyes carefully glancing over every single person. He spots Tommy and Wilbur, looking at them as if trying to ask what to do next (although it should be pretty fucking obvious, Tommy almost spits out). 

“Uh Technoblade, we’re running on a tight schedule here.” Schlatt glances at his wrist as if checking the time on an imaginary watch (Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if the senile old fucker really did think he had a watch on his wrist). 

“Well uh, what do you want from me, Mr President,” Technoblade asks and Tommy can feel his heart sting at just those two little words. Technoblade, who is so self-proclaimed “anti-government”. Technoblade, who had never once recognized Schlatt as an official president. Technoblade, who showed up at Tommy and Wilbur’s doorstep not because he cared about them, but because he cared about anarchy only. 

Technoblade called Schlatt “Mr President”.

“I want you to take him out.” Schlatt doesn’t even bother to look at Tubbo who is fucking shaking in his little yellow concrete cage. Schlatt is staring at the audience as if he’s putting on a show. 

“Like to dinner? I know a pretty good restaurant down the street, I can take him there.” Tommy can tell that Techno’s stalling for time although he can’t really tell why. It should be a pretty fucking simple decision. Kill Schlatt instead and save the country. 

“No, you're not gonna take him out to dinner, Jesus christ, Technoblade. You’re gonna kill him! Kill him right now on this fucking stage!” Schlatt turns to Tubbo, grinning as he orders the execution of a fucking teenager. 

Technoblade raises his crossbow, a firework loaded in place of an arrow. Tommy’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees the crossbow aimed at Tubbo. His best friend being held at gunpoint. 

“I’m sorry, Tubbo. I’ll make it as painless as possible,” Technoblade mutters, crossbow aimed dead between Tubbo’s eyes. Tommy holds back a scream. He wants to shout. He wants to just fucking scream to the sky. Technoblade isn’t going to hurt Tubbo. It’s all part of his plan. Techno is on his side. Techno is on Tommy’s side. 

“Technoblade?” Tubbo’s voice cracks as he stares back and forth. It’s going to be okay. Technoblade isn’t going to hurt Tubbo. He's not. He’s not going to do anything bad. He’s on their side. 

Tommy screams. 

There’s an explosion of red, white, and blue, the fireworks exploding in colourful bursts of pain. Tommy watches as Schlatt and Quackity are blown backwards from the explosion. Tubbo hadn’t even screamed; it had all happened too fast. 

“Tommy, we need to go now!” Wilbur yells, grabbing onto Tommy’s arm. Tommy shrugs his arm free, staring at the stage. 

“TUBBO!” Tommy screams, digging through his bag for an ender pearl — for any way to get to Tubbo. Technoblade is standing on the stage, crossbow shooting firework after firework at the crowd. As if he craves nothing more than blood. 

Tommy finally feels the familiar cold of an ender pearl against his fingers and soon he’s standing on the stage next to Techno. He can’t even think. Not as he grabs his sword out of his bag and practically throws himself at Techno. 

The two netherite swords smash together with a devastating clang and Techno almost starts to laugh. Tommy pulls his sword to the side, staring down at Tubbo’s crumpled body in the box. 

_Tubbo in a box. Tubbox. Tubbo in a box._

Before anyone can even react, Tommy has Tubbo’s body in his arms. He’s running and he doesn’t know where he’s running to; just that he’s running. His legs will carry him wherever he needs to go, somewhere where Tubbo can be safe. 

Tubbo’s body isn’t even really Tubbo anymore. Burns run up and down his face and there’s blood dripping from absolutely every crevice of his body. Tommy doesn’t think that a single body should be allowed to have this much blood. 

And beneath all of the dripping blood, Tommy can’t even recognize the soft smile that so often was smeared across Tubbo’s face. 

Tommy very quickly finds himself at the embassy.

* * *

“I thought you didn’t want to be president.” Dream is standing inside of the embassy, back against the wall as he lets out a low laugh. Tommy can’t help but notice the thin crack running down Dream’s mask — one that wasn’t there the day Dream has proposed this offer. 

Dream’s dressed as he always is. Neon green hoodie draped across his chest as if he wants to stand out. Tommy isn’t surprised to be honest, he knows that Dream could probably beat any enemy that dared to come at him (except for Technoblade, Tommy proudly states, a proven fact since their little duel which Techno had won 6-4). 

“Healing pots.” Tommy almost drops Tubbo, only now realizing that Tubbo is a little bit too light and a little bit too skinny. Dream tilts his head to the side, to which Tommy quietly adds, “Please.” 

Dream passes over a bright pink potion, the bottle almost falling onto the floor as Tommy barely manages to catch it in between his shaking fingers. He wastes no time in dropping the liquid down Tubbo’s throat, carefully setting him down on the bed in Tommy’s old room. He’d almost forgotten that the embassy used to be his home; before the war began and he’d been forced underground. 

“Help him. Please, Dream. We can talk about this whole thing, but first, please just help him.” Tommy can feel tears prick at his eyes as Dream moves over to where Tubbo is laying. It takes everything inside of Tommy to not push Dream away because there’s just this tiny little feeling that Dream is so absolutely wrong. 

Dream seems to be prepared already, pulling a small first aid kit from underneath the bed. The familiar white case glares up at him as Tommy remembers exactly where it came from. He remembers showing up at his house, arm bleeding as he frantically searched for some sort of bandage. He’d been sparring with Sapnap (who used, keyword _”used”_ to be his friend) and the fight had gotten a little too intense. 

_”Aw fuck,” Tommy mumbles under his breath, pulling his arm against his chest. Blood drips down his arm, staining his already red shirt. Sapnap sheaths his sword at his side, running up to Tommy._

_“Hey, Tommy, you okay?” Sapnap tilts his head as he walks up to Tommy. He reaches out a hand to see Tommy’s arm._

_“Like hell you could hurt me, bitch boy! I’m leaving this on a dub!” Tommy shouts, hugging his arm tight against his chest. He’s not sure why he felt like he needed to hide his injury from Sapnap. Perhaps he needed to seem stronger than he actually was._

_Sapnap lets out a low laugh, turning around and running off without another word. Tommy watches him run before letting out another curse. He runs off to his home, pissed at mostly himself for letting Sapnap get such a dumb hit on him._

_He digs through the chests of his house, looking for any kind of bandage just to wrap it up. He wipes some of the blood off, fingers stained red. He silently (okay maybe not that silently) curses himself for not keeping any kind of medical supplies in his home._

_“Finished sparring?” a familiar voice rings out from the doorway. Tommy turns around to find Tubbo standing in the doorway, white case hanging off of his arm. Tommy runs toward him, smiling as he wraps his uninjured arm around his friend’s shoulders. Tubbo shrugs him off, laughing at the bright smile on his face._

_“You brought a first aid kit?” Tommy asks, peering at the white box. Tubbo flips it around, revealing the large red cross painting over one side._

_“Had a feeling.” Tubbo shrugs, taking a seat on the edge of Tommy’s bed. He pats the space next to him as he opens up the case on his lap, “sit.”_

_“I gotta protect you, don’t I?” Tubbo laughs as he continues dressing the wound. Tommy sticks out his tongue, nearly yanking his arm away out of pure excitement._

_“Hey hey, I’m the big man! I’ve gotta protect you!” Tommy’s smile only grows as he prepares for Tubbo’s retort of ‘I am literally older than you’._

_“Yeah? Keep this here then. Next time I get hurt, I’ll come here and you can fix me.”_

Tommy guesses that this is the next time. 

Although Tubbo’s dripping blood and burning scars are slightly more dramatic than Tommy’s small arm wound. Dream digs items out of the case and Tommy watches as Dream begins to dress Tubbo’s wounds. 

Dream’s movements are skillful, each one a calculated move. Tommy watches the needle go in and out as Dream tries to stitch up a particularly bad wound on his chest. Tommy feels almost sick, but he can’t look away. 

Not when it’s Tubbo laying on the table before him. Tubbo, who’s always been so happy. Tubbo, who’s always been somewhat of a quite literal ray of sunshine. Tubbo, who looks so _wrong_ without the smile that rarely leaves his face. 

A few minutes pass. Then 10. Then an hour. And it seems like forever until Dream turns to look at Tommy, lifting his mask off of his face to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

“You’re one of only two people who’ve seen my face,” Dream laughs softly as he moves away from Tubbo. Tommy watches Tubbo’s chest rise and fall slowly, each movement a reminder that Tubbo isn’t really dead and that he’s _okay_. 

“I don’t care about your dumb face. Is he going to be okay?” Tommy leans over, intertwining his fingers with Tubbo’s hand. His best friend. His best friend is on the brink of fucking death. 

“He’ll be fine, stop being fucking annoying. Let’s talk about the deal.” Dream raises the mask again, running a finger along the white edge. Tommy lets out something of an annoyed groan, although he’s not entirely sure if it’s because he’s pissed at Dream or because he’s scared for Tubbo.

“You make me president. That's what you promised,” Tommy mumbles, not looking away from Tubbo. Dream lets out a small laugh, each ring echoing in Tommy’s ears. 

“Don’t be hasty, Tommy. You gotta do something for me first.” Dream pulls something from underneath Tommy’s old bed. The cover of the book is old and fraying, leather torn off into pieces. Tommy catches a glimpse at the pages, more yellow than white and covered in black drips 

Dream flips through a couple pages, thumbing through each one as he looks for a specific page. Tommy watches as Dream doesn’t even look up from the book, as if there’s something inside of there that’s more important than anything in the world. 

“Schlatt gave me something, you see. The declaration of independence of Manberg,” Dream tosses the book towards Tommy, who fumbles as it nearly slips past his fingers, “burn it.” 

The leather-bound cover is more familiar to Tommy now that he’s holding it in his own hands. Wilbur’s signature is hastily scribbled on the cover, matching with the one on the inside accompanied by Tommy’s own. 

Tommy can remember the day that they signed the book. It had been a day of full on screaming (the good kind, Tommy remembers) as Wilbur had slashed black lines across the pages. The book was mostly written in Wilbur’s neat printing, save for a few pages near the end that Tubbo had written in his nearly chicken scratch handwriting when Wilbur couldn’t think of a proper way to phrase his thoughts. 

(Leave it to Wilbur to make the dyslexic kid write their fucking declaration of independence.) 

“You want me to burn it?” Tommy asks, closing the book and running his fingers along the already charred cover. The book’s been through a lot since it’d been written during the first war. 

Tommy remembers when he’d dropped the book into their fireplace while trying to show it to Quackity, quickly sticking his hands into the burning flames to grab it. (Needless to say, he had another use for the first aid kit that day). Tommy remembers when Tubbo dropped it into the lake, ink running down the pages as he hastily shoved it under Niki’s hairdryer. Tommy remembers Fundy placing the book back on its display, not noticing the red ketchup stains running up and down the pages. 

“I want you to sever your connection with Wilbur and this is the only way you can prove it to me.” Dream pulls a flint and steel out of his pocket, a dark stain covering the lime green of his (dumb) hoodie. Tommy reaches forward, taking the flint and steel into his hands. 

“Sever my connection to Wilbur, huh?” Tommy repeats, looking down at the small book in his hands. It’s been so long since Tommy’s even seen that book and even longer since he’s thumbed through all of the pages just to read it for fun. Dream raises an eyebrow, tapping his foot as if his time is far too important to be wasted with Tommy’s thoughts. 

Tommy glances at Tubbo, chest softly rising and falling as the only reminder that he’s not dead. That the world hasn’t taken the one thing left that Tommy loves. He’s doing it all for Tubbo. Everything for his best friend. He can keep Tubbo safe. Safe with Dream’s help. 

Tommy strikes the flint and steel, flames sparking into the small pile of wood that Dream had set up. He watches the fire lick at the logs, heat rising as it tickles against his fingertips. 

He doesn’t need to look at Tubbo again before dropping the book into the growing flames. 

He’s going to protect Tubbo and he doesn’t care if this is the only way to do it.

* * *

“Tommy?” Tommy feels his heart stop for just a moment as the familiar voice creaks out from the bedroom. He spins on his heel, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to the bedroom. The doorframe is a bit of an unwelcoming sight as Tommy runs straight into it, but he really couldn’t care less. Not as Tubbo mumbles his name one more time. 

“Tubbo!” Tommy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Tubbo, sitting up in bed with his eyes barely open. There are scars running all across his face, each one a reminder that Tommy couldn’t keep him safe. 

“Tommy,” Tubbo mumbles once more as Tommy envelops him in a hug. Tommy can feel Tubbo wince as his cold hands press against his bright burns, but Tommy doesn’t think he ever wants to let go of Tubbo. 

Never again. 

“Fuck, Tubbo, I can’t believe you’re alive,” Tommy barely manages to squeeze out a few words before pulling away from the hug and taking a seat on the foot of the bed. 

“It hurts a lot,” Tubbo sucks in a breath, running his hand along a particularly bad burn down his arm. 

“Hey, it looks fuckin’ badass man,” Tommy trails off into a laugh as Tubbo continues to stare down at his burns (and he can’t even see the really bad ones on his face). Tubbo smiles softly, but there’s a _look_ in Tubbo’s eyes; one that Tommy thinks he might be the only person able to recognize it. 

“Yeah…” Tubbo trails off, looking around the room. Tommy prepares for the ‘what happened’, trying to figure out a way to explain everything without just saying ‘yeah Technoblade who we thought was our ally fucking shot you and I had to get help from our greatest enemy Dream in return for betraying my brother’. 

Tommy doesn’t even know what Tubbo will think of his deal with Dream. Maybe he won’t accept. Maybe he’ll think of Tommy as a disgusting traitor. In a best case scenario, Tubbo agrees and they rule L’Manberg together with Dream’s help. Worst case scenario, Tubbo leaves and tells Wilbur what happened. 

“Was Dream here?” Tubbo asks and Tommy only now notices the lime green hoodie laying on the floor. He remembers Dream taking it off, claiming it to be ‘far too hot’ for a cold November night. Now, Tommy realizes that Dream likely left it on purpose for the sole reason of steering the conversation towards Tommy’s betrayal — so that Tommy couldn’t hide it like Dream knew he wanted to. 

“Don’t you wanna know what happened?” Tommy tries to distract Tubbo from the topic of Dream, but Tubbo’s eyes stay glued on the bright hoodie. 

“I think I can assume,” Tubbo lets out a soft laugh, raising his arms to show off the bright red burns once more. Even in a moment like this, Tubbo’s still _Tubbo_ and he hasn’t changed. 

A beat passes. 

“Dream?” Tubbo repeats and Tommy realizes that perhaps this is something he can’t just put off forever. Tommy lets out a heavy sigh. He has to tell him. He has to. 

“I made a deal with Dream.” Tommy bites his lip as if hoping that Tubbo would be able to simply read his mind without him having to explain it (Tubbo probably could).

“Are you going to betray Wilbur?” Tubbo asks, not even needing Tommy to explain further. Tommy supposes that it’s because they’re best friends. Perhaps they’re closer than that. 

“Dream said he could make me president,” Tommy mumbles. His eyes fall to the lime green hoodie as if it could hear what they were saying and tell Dream. (Tommy really wouldn't put it past Dream if the hoodie had a hidden camera in it). 

“What about Pogtopia?” Tubbo tilts his head, wincing at the sudden movement. He rubs a hand along his neck and Tommy grabs his hand, intertwining his fingers together. Tubbo really shouldn’t be picking at his wounds like that. It’ll only take longer to heal. 

“What about it?” Tommy bites his lip as he speaks as if focusing on anything except for his own words. He knows he’s right. He’s Tommyinnit! He’s always right! But the judging look on Tubbo’s face is enough to make him question his own name. 

“Wilbur’s gonna be sad.” and of course that’s Tubbo’s reasoning! Of _fucking_ course the only thing Tubbo cares about is that their brother is going to be sad about their betrayal.

(To be fair, Wilbur isn’t Tubbo’s ‘biological’ brother, but Tubbo had never treated Wilbur like anything other than an older brother to look up to. Wilbur had been the same, until recently when he’d realized that Tubbo was just as much of a child prodigy as Technoblade had been and Tubbo could be _oh so very_ useful if Wilbur could just control every single little thing he did.) 

“Wilbur doesn’t care about us! All he cares about is himself!” Tommy yells, perhaps a little louder than he’d really meant to. He’d come to terms with the fact that Wilbur didn’t care about him and so should Tubbo. Wilbur had pretended to see Tubbo as his brother — had pretended that he cared about Tommy, his _actual_ brother, because that was what was most useful to him at the moment. 

“Wilbur does care! We’re his brothers!” Tubbo furrows his eyebrows and Tommy can’t tell if what Tubbo’s feeling is more confusion, sadness, or anger. 

“Wilbur doesn’t even see you as his brother, Tubbo! He’s never cared about us!” Tommy can feel his voice rising with each word as if he’s a little kid again arguing about who stole whose toy. Tubbo almost flinches at the words, as if they’ve struck a nerve deeper than Tommy really understands. 

“Wilbur cares about me, right? He does,” Tubbo almost whispers, picking at his nails. Tommy almost wants to lie to him. To tell him that Wilbur does care and that it’s all going to be okay. But he can’t lie. Not to Tubbo of all people. Tubbo deserves, at the very least, the truth. 

“Wilbur’s too far gone. Maybe, he did before. Maybe, things were different before. But now, they’re not. It’s me and you, Tubbo. Me and you against the world. Like it’s always been,” Tommy’s voice falls again, returning to a whisper. 

“Me and you together,” Tubbo repeats, smiling softly as Tommy wraps an arm around his shoulders. Tubbo flinches at the sudden touch, but soon relaxes into the warm embrace. Tommy looks at Tubbo, scars running up and down his face and blood staining his clothing. 

It’s him and Tubbo against the world. That’s what it always is. Him and Tubbo. _His_ Tubbo. Tommy thinks that perhaps nothing else really matters if he has his best friend by his side. His best friend that he trusts more than anyone else in this world. 

“I trust you, Tommy. You promise we’ll be okay?” Tubbo asks softly, squeezing Tommy’s hand once. Tommy glances at his best friend, smile not fading from his face as he ruffles Tubbo’s hair. 

“We’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

* * *

“Dreeeeeeaaaaam! He’s being mean to me!” a voice whines out, running up to Dream and wrapping his arms around his neck. A boy standing in the back rolls his eyes, tying his white headband back around his forehead. 

Tommy stares as Sapnap and George welcome Dream back with open arms and laughter. A hand ruffling the other’s hair and fingers reached out to tickle someone. They smile at each other, excited to just be in each other’s presence again. 

Tommy glances back at Tubbo, who seems to be thinking the same exact thing as him. He misses when he’d come home from mining, coal mixed into his hair and bruises on his arm from hitting the walls too hard, only to find Wilbur sitting waiting for him. 

_”Wil!” Tommy laughs, voice cracking slightly as he runs up to hug Wilbur. Wilbur returns the hug before gesturing to the seat next to him._

_“You took fuckin’ forever.” Wilbur waits for Tommy to sit and looks at the other empty chair at their table. There are three white plates laid out before them, absolutely dripping with steaming food of all kinds, “Tubbo’s in the bathr-“_

_“TOMMY!” it doesn’t even take Tommy a second to register the familiar voice before running up to Tubbo and wrapping his arms around him. Tubbo laughs as Tommy ruffles the shorter boy's hair._

_“TUBBO!” Tommy shouts back, slowly releasing him from the hug. Tubbo hands Tommy a wet towel, wiping at the black stains on his face._

_The three boys take their seats around the table and Tommy remembers a time long ago when there would be five of them around a table, eating and telling stories about anything and everything. Now there’s only three, but Tommy doesn’t particularly mind._

_“Is there a special occasion or something I forgot? Fuck, Wil, is it your birthday?” Tommy looks down at the steaming food, the sweet scent floating through the room. It’s his favourite. They made his favourite._

_“No, we just wanted t-“ Wilbur tries to explain, but Tubbo can’t seem to contain his excitement (Tommy’s always thought of Tubbo as maybe a little too short to contain all of his energy)._

_“We missed you!” Tubbo’s face breaks into a large smile and Tommy bursts into laughter. Only Wilbur and Tubbo would make an elaborate meal (of his favourite food no less) and surprise him at his own home just because they missed him._

“Dream, I missed you,” Sapnap whines, probably thinking that George has had a little bit too much attention for now. 

“Woah what the fuck, why’d you bring _children_ here?” George raises his glasses onto his forehead as if that’s going to change what he sees in front of him. Sapnap immediately pulls away from Dream, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look cool. (It’s important to note that Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever think of Sapnap as _cool_ after he watched him fall into a river to grab a hotdog he dropped and then watched him proceed to eat the soggy bun). 

Tommy bites back the retort on his lips. The retort to say he’s not a child and that he’s much cooler than that dumb colourblind Gogy bitch. (The retort that is true, Tommy feels the need to add.) 

“Birthday gift for me? We can cook them!” Sapnap laughs, a slight glint in his eye that makes Tommy think that perhaps he’s not joking. Sapnap does tend to have arsonist tendencies so Tommy wouldn’t be completely surprised. 

“I don’t think I would taste very good,” Tubbo mutters, looking down at his arm, tanned quite a bit from running back and forth from Pogtopia and L’Manberg under Schlatt’s orders. 

“We’re not gonna eat them, what the fuck, Sap?” Dream looks at the shorter boy, raising an eyebrow at his ’questionable’ morals, “I rescued them from Wilbur’s _hateful_ grasp.” 

“Wilbur’s not hateful! He cared about us!” Tubbo pipes up, running a hand through his dark hair. Dream lets out a soft sigh, placing a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. 

“Didn’t he make you and Tommy child soldiers?” George asks, raising his eyebrows as he waits for a response. 

“But he-“ 

“Didn’t he treat you like some sort of dog? Didn’t he run you ragged with errand after errand, not even caring that Schlatt was putting you through the same exact thing. Aren’t you tired, Tubbo? Aren't you tired of being treated like you don’t matter?” Dream whispers, leaning in close to Tubbo’s ear. Tommy watches as Tubbo stiffens at the words, fingers twitching at his side as he searches for the comfortable feeling of Tommy’s hand in his. 

And there’s something about Dream’s words that strike Tommy as strange. That they’re not the truth, but they’re not lies. Dream walks the line of half-truths and white lies as if balancing between everything right and everything wrong at the same time. 

“We’ll keep you safe. We’ll protect both of you. We’ll be your real family here. _I promise_.”

* * *

“For all we know I could be the traitor. That’d make the most sense,” Wilbur laughs, a glint in his eye so much like the insanity that Tommy had grown so used to. He didn’t particularly care for it anymore. It didn’t matter after all. 

“Don’t joke about that.” Quackity knits his eyebrows together, lips pressed into a tight line. It’s strange to see someone like Quackity so serious. 

It had only been a couple of days since Dream had told the group that there was a traitor (a dumb decision on Dream’s part that Tommy has disagreed with) and they were preparing for a full on war. 

Tommy glances at Tubbo who nods back. Tommy knows what he’s meant to do. Betray the group for Dream and then he can be safe with Tubbo. He’ll be safe. 

“I trust Tommy and Tubbo. The rest of you? Not so much.” Quackity bites his lip, looking back and forth at everyone in the group. Wilbur shrugs as if he couldn’t really care less what Quackity thinks about him. Niki is standing next to Fundy, an arm around his shoulders and the other around Eret. Technoblade is on the other side, the same crossbow at his waist that he used to publicly execute Tubbo. 

All of his friends are there. All of his friends that he’s going to betray. 

“I trust all of you! Even you, Technoblade.” Tubbo smiles, voice steady as he lies through his teeth. Even Tommy almost believes him. It’s just such a _Tubbo_ thing to say. 

“Thanks, Tubbo! No hard feelings on the whole attempted murder thing, right?” Techno laughs, a nervous smile crossing his face. His fingers fidget with the crossbow on his waist, pulling at all of the different strings. 

“You fucking shot him,” Tommy spits. He knows that Tubbo may have forgiven Techno, but Tommy sure hasn’t. Even after their fight in the pit, he can’t find it in him to forgive Techno for anything he’s done. 

“Water under the bridge,” Techno trails off into a nervous laugh once again, fingers searching for the familiar feel of the crossbow. 

Tommy stares at the sky, not a cloud in sight of the blue so light that it’s almost white. Not fitting for a day of war. Not fitting whatsoever. Tommy thinks that maybe he has to savour this sky of pastels before clouds of grey smoke funnel into the sky. 

War destroys. It burns the things that Tommy loves to the ground and nearly steals the life of the one person he cares about. War is what Wilbur wants. Explosions and blood to rain through the sky. 

Wilbur wants everyone else to suffer as much as he has because when he’s alone in his suffering, he cannot blame anyone but himself. 

Dream will save them. That’s what he promised. Dream will lift Tommy out of Wilbur’s cold grasp, bloody fingers tearing at his clothing as he reaches for Dream’s hand. He’s never liked Dream. Always found him to be annoying to say the least and manipulative to say the most. 

But Dream cares about him. Dream cares about him and Tubbo. That’s what he promised and Dream wouldn’t lie to him. Not about something like that. 

It’s barely minutes before the group reaches the battlefield, still discussing the possibility of a traitor. It takes everything in Tommy to not reveal himself. To not let himself take the fall right now because if it fails later on, then he’ll have to drag Tubbo down with him. 

As soon as they step onto the battlefield, arrows begin to rain down like a deadly hail, each one tipped in something more than just a regular arrowhead. 

“Harming arrows!” Techno yells, fitting one of his own arrows into the notch of his crossbow. A smirk crosses Techno’s face and Tommy realizes that he’s not even remotely scared of death. 

Technoblade never dies, huh?

_”PHIL!” Tommy’s voice is shrill as he runs through the house, fast as his little nine year old legs can carry him. Techno runs behind him, easily faster than him but opting to instead stay steadily behind._

_“Tommy, what’s wrong?” Phil asks, lifting his head from the book he’s been writing in. The cover is worn leather, tearing at the edges and various liquids staining the pages. Wilbur is sitting next to Phil, his own pen in hand as he tries to pretend that he’s more mature than he actually is._

_“Look at what Techno got!” Tommy yells, grabbing Techno’s arm to pull him forward. Techno pulls a hand out from behind him, revealing something hidden in his grasp._

_“Holy shit, Techno, is that real?” Wilbur’s voice cracks as he catches sight of the foot long snake slithering between Techno’s fingers. The snake whips wildly back and forth, trying to escape Techno’s tight hold on it._

_“Techno, put that down! You know how poisonous that shit is?” Phil warns him, holding out a steady hand for Techno to pass it over._

_“He won’t bite me. Me and Jeremy? We’re cool.” Techno shakes his head, gently patting the snake on its head. Tommy wonders how Techno can be so completely fearless as if nothing could ever hurt him._

_And he realizes that it’s because that’s just how Technoblade is. He’s strong and he isn’t afraid of anything. Techno’s done more in his short seventeen years of life than most adults have even dreamed of. Tommy’s going to be like him one day, he promises that to himself._

_“Hey guys, what’s up?” Tubbo slides down the stairs, coming out of his room for the first time that day as he’d been far too engrossed in some new book he was reading._

_“Hey Tubbo, think fast!” Techno yells, cranking his arm back and hurling the snake at Tubbo as hard as he can. The snake lands on Tubbo’s face, hissing at being thrown halfway across the room. Tubbo stares quietly for a second, unable to process the green animal sliding across his face._

_“AAAAAAAA HELP ME HELP TECHNOBLADE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!”_

The battle is over before it even began. There aren’t even any casualties, merely a few injuries before Dream calls for surrender. Tommy glances at everyone around him, confused looks painted on their faces. Tubbo looks confident as if he knows exactly what’s going on (to be fair, it’s because he does). 

“We would like to surrender,” Dream announces, adjusting his mask around his face. Sapnap is standing next to him, but George is nowhere to be found. Not only that, but there’s a glare plastered on Sapnap’s face as he looks at Dream. 

The plan goes smoothly. They watch as Schlatt dies of a heart attack in the Camarvan and then they move onto the celebrations. Tommy had known that Schlatt was going to die, Dream had told him that the first night they had discussed the plan. Yet for some reason, it had still come as a shock. It was as if Schlatt had always seemed so powerful — so _large_ , but in death he somehow looked smaller than Tommy could ever remember him.

“Keep an eye on Wilbur. Follow him anywhere he goes,” Dream whispers to Tommy, as Wilbur walks up to the podium to prepare a speech. Tommy knows what’s going to happen. Wilbur will declare himself president again and Tommy will be left alone once again. That’s why he has to do what Dream says. 

“Tommy, don’t do it. Dream doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about any of us,” Sapnap interrupts the conversation, pushing Dream aside to get in closer. 

“Shut up, Sapnap!” Dream growls, venom dripping from each word, “Tommy, I’ve always been your friend, remember? Of course I care about you. I’m your family. Sapnap is not. You believe me, right Tommy?” 

“Of course I believe you!” Tommy doesn’t see a reason to not trust Dream. Dream and Tubbo are the only people who care about him. No one else cares about anything that would happen to him. 

He trusts Dream. He does. So why does it feel so _wrong_ when Dream places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as if trying to control him with a single touch. 

Wilbur’s speech goes as expected. He reinstates himself as president and steps down from the podium without a further word. The group begins to celebrate, but Tommy watches as Wilbur slinks away from the rest of them. 

Tommy catches Tubbo’s attention, the two boys breaking into a sprint as they chase after Wilbur. Tommy can guess where Wilbur’s going (God, he’s predictable) and it doesn’t take long to reach the hidden room underneath the podium. 

Wilbur let’s out a heavy laugh as his fingers graze over the button plastered in the wall. Tommy and Tubbo shoot each other a look, unsure of what to do. They’ve got to stop Wilbur and his hands are far too close to the button for comfort. 

“Wilbur, stop!” Tommy yells, tackling Wilbur onto the ground. Tubbo disappears and Tommy can only imagine that he’s off in search of Dream. 

“Tommy, what the fuck?” Wilbur spits, trying to throw Tommy off of him. Tommy’s never been particularly strong and Wilbur is eight years older than him and probably double his weight. He tries to hold his ground to keep Wilbur attached to the floor, but it doesn’t take long for Wilbur to throw Tommy at the wall. 

“Wilbur, don’t do it. Dream is on his way and he’s going to stop you,” Tommy barely manages to mumble, hands twitching at his side. He’s scared, god he’s so scared. This is too much for him. As much as Tommy hates to admit it, he’s a _child_. He is too young for war and blood. 

“Since when are you and Dream even on speaking terms?” Wilbur laughs, turning to look at Tommy. Wilbur tilts his head to the side, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout, “look at me! I’m Tommy! I’m a hero and I’m going to save L’Manberg. Ugh, you’re such a prick, Tommy.” 

“Tommy!” Tubbo’s voice rings out from the entrance of the room as he returns with both Dream and Sapnap at his side. Sapnap doesn’t look as if he’s forgiven Dream, but he follows him anyways. 

“Hello, Wilbur,” Dream smiles, mask lifted over his face so every bit of emotion he has is visible, “Sapnap, kill him.” 

That wasn’t part of the plan. 

“No, you can’t do that!” Tommy yells, throwing himself in front of Wilbur. The two might not be on the best terms and Wilbur might not care about him, but they’re still brothers. 

“Tommy, why do you care? If it meant that he could get his way, Wilbur would betray you any day of the week,” Dream sneers, “Sapnap, I said kill him.” 

“No. I’m not gonna fucking do what you say anymore. You’re manipulating a 16 year old. That’s a new low for you, Dream.” Sapnap shoots Dream a glare before tossing his netherite sword to the ground with a thud, “Tommy, Tubbo, do you want to come with me?” 

“I have to do everything myself around here.” Dream doesn’t even let Tommy respond to Sapnap’s proposal before moving on.

“Dream cares about me,” Tommy repeats to which Tubbo nods. Dream walks towards Wilbur, grabbing his arms and holding them around his back. He raises his sword to Wilbur’s neck and in Wilbur’s defence, he doesn’t even flinch at the sharp purple sword nearly slicing off his head. 

“Your loss. I’m out of here.” Sapnap shrugs, leaving his sword on the ground as he walks away, probably to search for George. 

“Dream cares about you? That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Wilbur breaks off into a fit of laughter, clutching at his stomach as Dream lowers the blade ever so slightly so that Wilbur doesn’t accidentally chop his own head off, “Dream, mind if I ask you a question? You supplied me with this TNT, so why are you going back on this now?” 

Dream leans in close to Wilbur, whistling something into his ear. Wilbur lets out an even louder laugh, wiping a stray tear from his eye, “that’s fucked up. You’re fucked up, Dream and I fucking love you for that.” 

Tommy watches as Dream drags Wilbur away, sword still pointing dangerously at Wilbur’s throat. Dream cares about him. That’s why he’s doing this. Once Dream takes care of Wilbur, he’ll make Tommy the president. Then, once and for all, Tommy will be able to protect Tubbo. 

“Hey, Tommy! Wanna know what Dream just told me? ‘Why blow up a country when I can destroy it myself by manipulating the child in charge of it?’ Fucking hilarious!” Wilbur continues to laugh, slowly fading away as Dream drags him farther and farther away. 

Tubbo walks up to Tommy, wrapping his arms around him. They’re both silent for a few moments, save for the scattered sobs that echo through the room. He has Tubbo. He’s safe. 

“We’re safe now,” Tubbo whispers between choked sobs, squeezing Tommy even tighter into the hug. Tommy runs a hand through Tubbo’s hair, smiling as he realizes that he’s achieved all he ever really wanted. He can protect his best friend from everything bad in this world. 

“I can keep you safe now.”

* * *

Tommy stands at the top of the podium, Tubbo on his right and Dream on his left. The crowd looks up at them expectantly, eyes wide as they wait for someone to explain what the hell is going on. Tommy taps the microphone once, letting it echo across the full audience. 

“Wil- Wilbur is dead,” Tommy announces, holding back a choked sob as his voice breaks. Dream nods at him, waiting for him to go on, “and he named me to be the president.” 

“No, you’re lying!” Niki yells out from the crowd, jumping up from her seat. She points at the podium, hair whipping wildly in the stark wind. 

“Sit down, Niki,” Dream demands, waiting for her to sit back down before allowing Tommy to continue. Niki doesn’t sit, refusing to bow to anyone even remotely like Dream, “you will bow to your president.” 

“And Tubbo is my vice president. Together, we’ll restore Manberg to its former glory.” just saying ‘Manberg’ instead of L’Manberg’ feels sick in Tommy’s mouth, as if it isn’t even remotely correct. But he’d promised Dream to keep the name as Manberg instead of changing it back. 

The crowd jeers at him, angry at the sudden change, demanding more information, but Tommy doesn’t know what to tell them. He knows that the name isn’t the only thing that Dream wants to change. 

And Tommy thinks for a moment, does he regret it? 

_”Tommy, come here!” Tubbo yells from where he’s sitting in their shared room, hunched over something on the carpet._

_“What do you want?” Tommy asks, taking a seat next to Tubbo. Tubbo shoves over a couple swatches of cloth, one in red and one in green._

_“I snatched them from Wilbur.” Tubbo smiles, as if sneaking into their 21 year old brother’s room was the easiest thing he could’ve done (it isn’t. Tommy knows that Wilbur is in his room 24/7 writing his music or some shit like that)._

_“You got me two pieces of cloth? Great gift, Tubbo,” Tommy snorts, picking up the red one to admire it (red is his favourite colour after all)._

_“Don’t be stupid. They’re bandanas! You tie them around your neck,” Tubbo explains, picking up the green one and tying it around his own neck as an example, “we can be matching!”_

_“Huh. Tie it around my neck, Tubbo. Don’t choke me out though.” Tommy passes the red cloth to Tubbo who carefully ties it around Tommy’s neck. Tommy admires the two bandanas in the mirror._

_Green for Tubbo and red for Tommy. Just like their favourite colours._

_“This way, when we’re not together, we can each look at our bandanas and think of each other.” Tubbo’s smile is wide as it spreads across his face, fingering the soft green fabric around his neck._

_“You’re so fuckin’ corny,” Tommy laughs as Tubbo grabs the nearest object and throws it at him (thank god for it being a pillow and not something heavy like a rock. Now why Tommy would have a rock in his room, he doesn’t know, but he wouldn’t put it past himself)._

_“Shut up, Tommy, I meant it. Wherever you go, I go too cause we’ve got the bandanas. Me and you against the world.”_

Tommy fingers the red bandana around his neck, the thing that used to keep him warm when he was running through the forest in the middle of the night. The thing that reminded him of Tubbo when they were miles apart. 

Dream’s hand is on his shoulder and it’s cold. His hand is unnaturally cold as it grasps Tommy’s shoulder as if Tommy is its own property. 

It’s far too cold than it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of want to write a traitor ranboo thing for the recent arc but i dunno we'll see lolol
> 
> also! according to ao3 statistics only a small percentage of you leave a comment after reading! so if you like the fic, please consider leaving a kudos and a comment. it's free and you can always undo it later! anyways i hope you enjoyed the fic :D


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